The Sultan's Dancer
by HPOwlLover24
Summary: Jean, the young sultan, really dislikes going through sultan duties. But maybe this time, it's not so bad.


The duties of a sultan were boring. There was no time for fun while on duty, and, as a ruler of many people, a sultan is _always _on duty. The sultan could not relax until he had finished everything that his royal advisor told him needed to be performed for that day.

Now, for many previous rulers, this was not a problem. But Jean was something that his predecessors were not. He was only eighteen years of age.

He had to admit that his royal advisor, a small intelligent blonde who was something like a dear friend to him, tried to help him as much as possible through all of his responsibilities. He, Armin, tried to make the process as painless as possible, often carrying out orders that he knew Jean would call without even asking. This made it easier for Jean to remain sane.

Jean trusted the blonde with his entire life, and, obviously, his sultanate. Armin knew exactly how to get Jean through the day. Which only made sense that he would know how to help Jean relax after his extremely long and boring ceremony that he had to sit through today.

"Jean!"

Jean stopped walking and turned around to face the blonde, his guards stopping beside him. Armin gave a hesitant glance at the male guard to his left before quickly looking back to Jean.

Jean raised an eyebrow and gave Armin an expectant look. "Yes?"

Armin stumbled and nervously looked at his feet. "You must prepare for the celebration tonight, sire. I have successfully prepared all the arrangements to celebrate the alliance we have formed."

Jean nodded at the blonde and gave him a hug. He laughed at the way the small man stiffened in his embrace. "How many times must I say, you need not call me sire?" Jean asked, backing away from the small blonde.

Armin bowed his head slightly, "Yes, well. I do need to go the front gates to ensure the guard there will know the necessary people allowed in."

Jean nodded, his finger scratching his chin. "Yes, well, take one of my personal guards in case the rebels decide to attack."

Behind him, one of his guards shifted anxiously. Jean turned and faced his male guard, "Eren, accompany Armin to the gate. I expect you to act as if it were I you are protecting."

The guard, Eren, bowed and followed a very red faced Armin away from Jean. Jean smiled at his advisor's expression. His other guard then began shifting anxiously, just as her brother had.

Jean sighed, "Mikasa, your brother will be fine. He is a very skilled guard, otherwise he would not be _my _guard."

The woman beside him, bowed her head, although a little begrudgingly, and replied, "Yes, sire."

Jean turned and began walking to his room. "Do not trouble yourself with worries, Mikasa. He will join us again soon."

The walk to his chambers was quiet despite their footsteps on the stone floor of Jean's palace. Jean mulled over the celebration tonight. It was to celebrate the union of his and another kingdom through friendship. The princess, Historia, was an angel and constantly wished for peace in her land. Of course, that caused for many rebels and empires to attack. Jean wished to extend his rule and help a friend, so he suggested the alliance.

She, along with her royal officials and his, would be attending tonight. Armin had promised entertainment in dance and music following a magnificent feast. Jean knew he would be looking forward to meeting Historia again, and the feast that would be prepared by his excellent cooks, but he wished that his mother would not go. She only seemed interested in setting him up for marriage.

_"__You cannot run the palace without a partner to look forward to at the end of the day," she would tell him. "How do you think your father got through his days without me?"_

Jean sighed as he and Mikasa entered his chambers. "A problem sire?" Mikasa asked him.

"No." Jean sighed again. His problem was not the constant set-ups for wives; it was the fact that they were always women. Jean knew that he was not one for the company of women. He had always enjoyed the thought of companionship with a man. Jean just has not found that man yet, although it would be a sight to see his mother's expression if he were to choose a man.

He looked at his bed and saw freshly woven clothes for him to adorn. His mother or Armin must have asked for them today because he had never seen them in his life.

He grabbed the articles of clothing and stepped behind a veil so he could change in peace. He was never one for stripping in front of people, even if they were his guard that he has had for years.

He dressed quickly and admired his dressings. The pants were a cream color that fit his narrow waist and flowed out very loosely around his legs before tightening around his ankles where they met his amber shoes. His top fitted his sculpted chest very well with sleeves, similar to his pant legs, stretching the entire length of his arm precisely. Around both of his shoulders were amber bands that were there to hold the cream cape in place. The amber bands then connected to a similar amber waistband.

To top it all off, there was a very poufy turban with a ruby and feather on it. He knew that the turban was only this large to cover his abnormal two-toned hair that his parents had never liked, but Jean kept it anyways with the help of Armin and some strange "magic" concoction he always made.

In all, it was not a bad change for him. The cream color was simple, just like Jean preferred things, and did not clash horribly with his skin. Also the amber bands and shoes matched his eyes perfectly, but there wasn't too much to dismiss his sharp amber eyes.

He stepped out from behind the veil and was met with Armin sitting on his bed, and Mikasa and Eren standing beside the door. Jean raised an eyebrow at Armin; he hadn't even heard them come into his room.

Armin smiled at Jean, "It appears that your garments are a perfect fit. And the guards at the gate have been alerted. Historia and the entertainment will be here soon, sire."

Jean playfully pushed Armin's shoulder, "Please stop calling me sire, old friend."

Armin chuckled, but bowed his head. "As you wish."

Jean gripped his turban tightly and looked at Armin. He began to chew on his lip, a habit that he was quickly berated for by his mother, and began tapping his foot. He knew he was growing anxious, but of what he had no answer.

Armin gave him a soft smile, one that he only ever gave to Jean in his most stressful times. Jean felt himself relax as the blonde's blue eyes looked into his own. Jean again was thankful that his closest friend was his advisor. Armin had always made him feel better at these times when he was acting as his father had.

The young sultan nodded and placed his turban on his head, effectively covering his bicolored hair, and nodded to Eren and Mikasa. "You two are to stay on us all night, unless we tell you otherwise. Eren you will be assigned with Armin and Mikasa, you will be assigned to me. Though I know Historia, I do not know of her royal guard nor officials and we need to be wary of them."

Eren and Mikasa bowed their heads to Jean. He began to walk out of his chambers with Armin at his shoulder, before stopping fast and looking to his guards. "Also, I know tonight will be very long. Therefore, tonight the entire guard and cooks will also have a feast prepared for them and tomorrow off."

Eren and Mikasa bowed again, though this time with slight grins on their faces. Jean looked at Armin and waved away what the blonde was about to say. "Do not worry. They do deserve it and I know more than enough to defend myself for one day."

Armin nodded and they continued down to the largest room in the palace. This room had seen generations of feasts and numerous plays of entertainment. Already, the food was spread and there was a colossal amount of birds and boars and fruits there. Jean could feel his mouth already beginning to water.

"Jean!"

But first…

He turned and saw Historia walking brusquely to him, a wide smile on her angelic features. She giggled as she wrapped her arms around Jean and he picked her up and spun her around. "It has been too long!"

Jean released her, placing her gently on the ground, and nodded at her, a smile growing on his face as well. He took her hand and gave it a light squeeze, "It has! At least it is a happy time."

The pair walked to the head of the table of food and Jean called for the attention of all those gathered. He held up their clasped hands and simply said, "The union of two empires that have long since been on the same side. We will officially assist and trade with our new friends as we hope for a time of peace and happiness. Now let us feast."

On Jean's right sat Armin and his left sat Historia. They feasted and began speaking to each other about their recent years. Jean was very interested in how Historia was doing, her family, her ruling (to see if she was doing much better than he was as they were both very young rulers and her a female), and if she had also been fighting the pressure of a betrothal.

As it seemed, she was in a very similar position as he was. Which comforted Jean, as he will later say was an embarrassing thought.

All too soon, the entertainment appeared. Jean was very happy with Armin's arrangement. The music began playing and the dancers appeared. There were several females and males dancing, swaying their little cashmere-cladded bodies at every official they could.

Jean was enjoying the expressions of his friends and laughing with Historia, Armin, and, Historia's royal advisor, Ymir. It was rare that a female would be in such a high power of position. But, much like Historia herself, she preferred a different rule to the one that has been written.

In the middle of laughing at Armin's attempt at humor, something caught Jean's eye. His jaw nearly fell open in amazement.

Before him, stood one of the many dancers that were spread across the room. The first thing Jean saw were freckles, they were _everywhere._ Jean then looked at the dancer. He was dressed in gold cashmere pants and a gold silk veil covered his nose and mouth. His entire torso was exposed, showing a lean, muscled stomach and well built arms, all covered in freckles. He had deep black hair that appeared windswept and incredibly soft. Then Jean saw his eyes. They were an extremely dark brown, but were soft as they met Jean's.

Jean saw a mischievous flicker in those gorgeous eyes.

The dancer glided towards Jean, his bare feet carrying him effortlessly to the young sultan.

Jean glanced quickly around him and realized he was alone. He wondered briefly where the other three had gone, including the guards, before returning his attention back to the dancer swiftly. He felt his face heating up as the dancer neared with his intense gaze focused on him.

The dancer untied the scarf that was around his waist. Holding it in both hands, he danced around Jean, lightly wrapping it around his shoulders. The scarf smelled strongly of fresh water and sweat, which only made Jean melt.

The dancer was still ridiculously close, swaying his hips in time with the music, his eyes trained only on Jean. And Jean was hypnotized. He could not, not that he would want to, look away from the sight of those freckles…

Before he knew it, the dancer grabbed the scarf around Jean's neck and slowly began dragging him away from the crowd of dancers and officials. He was taken to a room just away from the festivities that was meant for…personal entertainment.

Jean felt his heart's pace pick up, as well as his arousal, at the sight of the mysterious dancer with large brown eyes leading him to separate room.

The room was similar to any other bedroom in the palace, though the colors were not bright and the room seemed empty. There was a large bed in the center of the room that was surrounded by hanging curtains.

Jean was pushed gently onto the bed, still gazing up, starry-eyed, at the dancer.

The dancer sauntered up to him and gently pulled off his turban. Jean's face flushed as his strange, two-toned undercut was exposed. But the dancer ran a single finger from Jean's temple to his chin slowly, sending shivers down Jean's spine.

"Interesting hairstyle you have," the dancer whispered. His voice was as gentle as his eyes, incredibly alluring.

Jean felt his throat tighten up, so he only nodded in agreement.

The dancer moved behind Jean and unfastened the cape, and then gently dragging his hands down Jean's clothed arms. "So what is your name?" the dancer whispered in his ear.

"Er…m-my name-" Jean bit back a groan as he felt something ghost across his neck. "Jean," he gasped.

Behind him, the dancer giggled. The sound made Jean smile a bit, even if it was at the hand of his embarrassment.

"Well, _Jean,_" the dancer whispered seductively. He crawled around Jean and settled into his lap. Jean stared up, wide-eyed, at the lithe dancer. His hands were placed on the freckled man's hips, as the said man wrapped his arms around Jean's neck. "I am Marco. It is very nice to meet you," he said with a wink.

Jean smiled up at the freckled man, _Marco,_ and ran his hands up his freckled body. Marco didn't even hold back his groan; instead he tightened his arms around Jean's neck.

Jean's hands traveled up to the veil covering the other half of Marco's face. "May I?"

Marco looked at him inquisitively, but nodded.

Jean slowly took the veil off. He saw a mass of more freckles and an adorable button nose and soft-looking full lips.

Those lips were quirked in a dazzling smile that made Jean feel weak at the knees. Marco leaned forward and brushed his lips against Jean's ear. "So are you going to keep all of your garments on? Or will they join the turban?"

Marco crawled off of him so he could remove his garments. Jean could not get out of his clothes fast enough. He probably tore something, but he could easily have it replaced. Though his mother would not be very happy about that.

Marco simply sat on the bed, watching Jean while chewing on his lip. His eyes never left Jean's body, which made Jean blush.

He stood in front of Marco, nude, with a red face.

Marco extended his index finger toward Jean and curled it once.

Jean got the message and walked over to Marco. As soon as he reached him, Marco quickly flipped the positions. Jean, lying on the bed beneath Marco, looked up at him. His eyes widened as Marco settled between his thighs. Marco leaned forward and began pressing his lips against Jean's jaw line, traveling down his neck.

Jean felt Marco ground down on his already hard cock. "Do you want me, Jean?" Marco whispered in Jean's ear, capturing his lobe between his teeth.

Jean moaned at the friction. "Oh, yes." Jean nudged Marco's head with his nose, getting the freckled man to pull back and look at him. He looked up in those gorgeous brown eyes and he wanted nothing more than to kiss him.

Jean picked his head up and caught Marco's lips with his own. Marco didn't move for a few seconds, a noise of surprise escaping him. But a few moments later, Jean felt Marco return the kiss with as much passion as he was giving. Jean felt something tugging at his chest.

Marco's hands were tangled in Jean's hair, tugging at the lighter half and rubbing his fingers along the darker half. Jean had his hands around Marco's waist pulling him as close as he could, arousal almost completely forgotten.

Marco pulled away from Jean and began tracing his tongue down Jean's neck. Well his arousal was back at full force.

Before he knew what was happening, Marco's body was leaving his. Jean whined as the warmth from the other left him. He leaned on his elbows to look at Marco.

The brown-eyed beauty was standing at the foot of the bed, removing his dressings. Jean felt his eyes bulge as he looked on, his cock giving a slight twitch.

Marco had long, tanned, muscular, freckled legs. Jean couldn't take his eyes off of him. He felt his throat go dry and tried to wet his lips, feeling the anticipation.

Marco looked up at Jean and smirked, Jean had not seen anything more arousing than the smirk on his gentle face. "Like what you see?"

Jean couldn't respond. He simply swallowed hard and watched Marco walk back to the bed.

Marco climbed onto Jean's legs, looking down at his cock. Marco hummed and leaned forward, his breath ghosting over Jean's dick. "I should get you ready then, correct?"

Jean sighed heavily. His entire body trembled with anticipation as Marco hovered over him. He couldn't believe this was happening and something about it made Jean delightfully nervous.

Without warning, Marco took as much as Jean in his mouth as he could. The feeling of Marco's wet, warm mouth around his length made him moan, "Marco!"

Jean felt Marco move around his cock, saliva dripping down onto the coarse hair there. Jean arched his back, attempting to thrust his hips into Marco's mouth.

Marco's hands were on his hips, holding Jean down as he bobbed his head slowly, lathering it with his spit.

"Ah! Oh my-"

Marco took his mouth off of Jean and looked up to see his amber eyes half lidded. Marco straddled his lap and placed his hands on either side of Jean's arms. "Are you ready Jean?" Marco purred his own arousal was evident.

Jean nodded eagerly. He was dying to feel the release of the pleasure that had been building up inside of him, but first…

He reached up and brought Marco's lips down to his own. Jean felt him smile into the kiss, moving his lips with Jean's happily.

Jean brushed his tongue along Marco's bottom lip, asking for entrance. He wanted to know what the freckled beauty tasted like, if he tasted bitter or sweet…

Marco opened his mouth, his tongue pressing against Jean's own as Jean savored the feeling. Marco did not taste bitter or sweet. It was his own taste, something Jean had never had before. But something he knew he could not get enough of.

Jean's hands tangled in Marco's raven locks, bringing him as close as possible. He did not want to let go of him; he wanted to keep Marco as close as possible.

Marco pulled away from Jean with a pop, a string of salvia connecting their lips. He smiled gently at Jean, who in question flushed. Jean felt his heart swell strangely, sudden happiness filling him.

Marco pushed his ass slowly down on Jean's cock. Jean moaned at the sudden tightness around him, his eyes rolling back. "Oh, Marco!"

Jean's began breathing heavily. He looked up at Marco through heavy lidded eyes, which widened when he saw the look of pain on the freckled man's face. "Ah, Marco a-are you alright?"

Marco, biting down on his lip harshly with his eyes shut tight, nodded.

Jean tried to fight the cloud of pleasure that was overtaking him to focus on Marco. His hand, which had been resting on Marco's thigh, traveled up to Marco's erection. He slowly began dragging his hand up and down his length in an attempt to soothe his pain.

It worked well. Marco moaned softly, his teeth releasing his lip and his eyelids softened. Jean moved his hand faster as Marco pushed down further on his dick. Marco threw his head back, "Jean…"

Marco sat still for a few moments before leaning forward and kissing Jean roughly, with a new passion. Jean didn't miss a beat. He returned the kiss and slowed the pace of his hand.

Then Marco began to move. He used his legs to raise himself off of Jean before sinking back down.

"Strong…legs…" Jean panted against Marco's lips.

Marco raised himself again and smirked at Jean, his eyes gleaming mischievously, "You have no idea." He lowered himself again, painfully slow, and Jean groaned at the pace the freckled man was moving.

Jean gripped Marco's cock in his hand, moving at the same speed the dancer was going.

Soon, Marco's pace became irregular. Both men were close to being pushed over the edge. The sound of bare skin slapping against each other was loud in the chambers. Jean was panting hard, he had never felt this good before. He shifted his hips as Marco came back down on him, his hands pace quickening.

Marco's back arched as Jean moved his hips, a moan escaping his lips. Jean had never seen a more beautiful and pleasurable sight. He could feel it building up in the bottom of his stomach. Marco was going to push him over edge.

Jean felt himself release inside the freckled man's ass, Marco's name on his lips. Marco, though, was not done and kept moving. Jean grabbed Marco's hips, stopping him from moving. "J-Jean?"

Jean flipped their positions. Marco was looking up at with half-lidded, lust-filled eyes; his mouth was slightly open in surprise. Jean smiled at Marco and took his dick in his mouth.

He heard Marco gasp and groan at his action, bucking his hips up to meet Jean's mouth. Jean, trying not to choke, held Marco's hips and hummed. He swirled his tongue around the head, slightly sucking. "Jean…"

Marco shivered and released into Jean's mouth. Jean swallowed, his tongue running along Marco's softening member.

Marco sighed softly, smiling as Jean crawled back up to meet him. Jean returned the smile, kissing him softly.

Marco ran his hands through Jean's hair. Jean could feel him smile against his lips and, for the first time in a long time, he felt content and happy and completely relaxed.

He wanted to stay like that.

Jean pulled away from Marco, gazing into his gentle, brown eyes. "Can I ask you something?"

Marco nodded, still playing with Jean's hair.

Jean cleared his throat, it was dry again, "How would you feel about living in this palace."

Marco cocked his head curiously, "If I was honest? I would not mind one bit to be taken care of for the rest of my life. No more living in the streets and worrying about food…" He stopped suddenly, as if he shared too much of his personal life with Jean. It was his turn to clear his throat. "A-erm, anyways, why do you ask Jean?"

Jean kissed his freckled nose, "Because I want to ask if you would like to live in this palace. With me."

Marco's brow scrunched in confusion as he looked up at Jean questioningly. Then his eyes widened and he rolled out from under Jean, landing on the ground. He bowed low, "Sultan, I did not know it was you. I did not mean disrespect. I am sorry for-"

Jean crawled off the bed and walked around Marco. He grabbed his freckled shoulders and slowly straightened him, then kissed his shoulder. "Please, do not call me by my title now that you know who I am. I do not want that. And I did not mean to frighten you," Jean whispered.

Marco looked over his shoulder, "I- Yes, sire."

Jean chuckled and walked around, facing his freckled beauty. He placed a hand on Marco's cheek gently, who still looked a bit startled, and said, "And please do not call me sire. I told you my name for a reason. I prefer if you call me by that."

Marco looked at Jean, his eyes searching for something. Finally, he relaxed and smiled softly, "Yes, Jean."

Jean gently walked Marco back to the bed. They laid comfortably, Marco's head on Jean's chest with his arms around Jean's waist as Jean ran his fingers through Marco's hair. "Marco," Jean began. Marco looked up at Jean, his warm brown eyes melting Jean's heart. "Would you liked to stay in the palace with me?"

Marco smiled widely, "Yes, Jean. I would like that very much."

Jean released a breath he did not know he was holding. He kissed Marco gently, lovingly. "You are the Sultan's dancer now, my freckled beauty."

* * *

This one-shot came from nowhere. Hope you liked it.

Check out my tumblr, aramirez24, or the tag HPOwlLover24 for more updates (I track that tag).

Happy reading!


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